Victim
by Eve215
Summary: Post Season 2 opener 2x01 . Jane is having a hard time with the fact that Sam called him a victim. No one had ever called him that before... he'd never thought of himself as one before. A one-shot. Jane/Lisbon friendship


_A/N: This comes from the season premiere when the new butthole... I mean agent... Sam Bosco tells Jane he's not a detective, he's a victim. This is also for the Jello September challenge 'smile'. You put those together and you get this (well if you are me, if anyone else put those together, I'm sure they would have came up with something a lot better). Thanks to kathiann for reading this and making sure it wasn't stupid. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I own all mistakes. Yay mistakes :)_

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_**Victim**_

_Victim, ha, I am not a victim! I'll shove 'victim' up his ass._

Those words kept running through Patrick Jane's head as he lay on his brown-leather sofa in the CBI bullpen.

_Victim._

It was the word Sam Bosco had used to describe him while they were 'chatting' at the hotdog cart not twenty-four hours before. Now the case had been closed (thanks to him, not that anyone would think to thank him) and he was back to laying on his couch, waiting for the next dead body to fall. It was this time he hated with a fiery passion. It was when his mind had time to wander, and when his mind wandered, it was never a pleasant thing.

Sam had called him a victim. Sam had said he wouldn't share information on the Red John case with him. Well, that was just dandy. Didn't matter anyway. He'd find out whatever information he wanted because that's what he did. He'd already laid the groundwork and he'd have his information soon enough.

It was the fact that the balding lug had called him a 'victim' that rose his ire more than anything. _He_ was not a victim. _He _wasn't the one Red John had murdered. His wife.... his lovely wife (whom the arrogant ass had brought up) had wanted him to stop the psychic trade.... she was the victim. His daughter... his... he couldn't think about her, not now. Not at work where he refused to let tears flow, save the one time in the interrogation room. She was the victim. Those other thirteen women, _they_ were victims. Not him. He wasn't sure what he was, but _victim _wasn't it.

"Problems, Jane?" Her voice made his body want to flinch, but he caught himself just in time to keep that from happening. If there was anything he didn't want his colleagues to see more than his tears was his vulnerability.

"No, no problems. Just lying here. Waiting for a case." His arm was over his head, elbow covering his eyes.

"Liar." she said, coining his own phrase. "You've been sullen since Bosco took over the Red John case."

Inwardly, his mind yelled that, Hell yeah, he was sullen over losing the Red John case. Anyone would be just a tad big unhappy when their life's work got taken away from them. But outwardly, he only shrugged.

He heard her sigh and knew that she was quickly losing patience with him. "Fine, whatever, I tried. If you need to talk, or what---- you know, never mind. Just forget it." With that, he heard her walking off.

Jane didn't move, but his mind did venture off into another direction. Lisbon. Lisbon wasn't a victim either. Life had handed her a crappy hand, but she wasn't a victim. She was one, if not the, strongest woman he knew. If she wasn't a victim, he wasn't either.

Jane knew that he couldn't face anyone. Not right then. The team didn't know it, he wouldn't let them, but there were some days that he mentally broke down right there on his brown couch, right under their noses. This was one of those days. He'd never been called a victim. Had never thought of himself as a victim before... now... now he just wanted to leave, but knew there would be questions and even a gifted liar like himself had his breaking points.

Victim his ass.

So, he waited and pretended to sleep until, even under the drape of his arm, he could tell the daylight was fleeting. He began hearing less and less footsteps. Computer keys which were previously hit at a fervor were becoming fewer. Even the idle chatter that had gone on around him was dying down. Van Pelt was the last to leave the bullpen, Jane observed, as she was every night. Jane knew the young agent felt she had lots to prove to the team, mainly Lisbon. He knew that she wanted to stay late and get every angle of whatever report she was working on right, but he just wanted her to leave. He wanted to be alone, or so he thought.

When he was certain Grace had left, he slowly stretched his arms over his head and extended the muscles that hadn't been used in over five hours. He yawned broadly and eased up to sitting, dangling his legs over the side onto the floor. The CBI building was almost peaceful at night. Not homey in the least, which he quit enjoyed. He stood to go get some tea and settle back for the night when he saw the light on in Lisbon's office. He had hoped she had gone home by now, but realized it wasn't unusual for her to stay late.

He silently watched her for a few minutes. She was slumped down in her chair, bent over her desk, intently looking at something. Every once in a while, she would move to write something down. He was unnoticed to her, and he wasn't entirely sure if he thought that was a good thing.

Before long, he was propped up on her door facing, still watching with interest. "I know you're there. What do you want?" Lisbon asked, not looking up from her work.

"Oh, nothing. Just seeing what kept you here so late."

"Work." she said dryly.

"Of course." he said, sarcasm oozing.

"What?" she sighed heavily, finally looking up. "Some of us do work around here."

"And some of us pretend too so that we don't have to go home. Not that you aren't doing a lovely job pretending, but it's me, Lisbon. You don't have to pretend with me."

She scoffed and laid her pencil down. If Jane wanted to spar tonight, well, she was up for it. It wasn't like she had anything else to do at the time being. "I could say the same for you."

"About what?"

"Pretending." Lisbon leaned back in her chair and folded her arms.

"I don't pretend." Jane challenged stepping into her office, hands crossed over his chest, looking her straight in her eyes.

"Really." she smirked.

"Yes really." Why didn't she believe him? Oh yes, because it was an out and out lie.

"Jane, you pretend every time you plaster a smile on your face. You pretend every time you crack a joke with the team and every time you try to con a suspect instead of just letting us do our job the legal way to catch the bad guy."

He stood there for a moment, eyeing her, controlling his breath. He knew she had a pretty good read on him, but he didn't know it was that good of a read. But this wasn't about him, was it? "Very nice speech, Lisbon. Very insiteful especially from someone who pretends all day too." With that, his lips curved slightly and he sat down in one of the chairs across from her.

Lisbon's face flushed slightly, detectable only to him. "I don't pretend, Jane. I do my job. I follow the rules. I--"

"Live a boring life. I get that. But face it, deep down, you have to make yourself get out of bed every morning. Deep down, you are as screwed up as I am."

He had expected her to laugh, or at the very least to give him the evil eye of which she was very good. He wasn't expecting her to just sit there. Slowly, her eyes drifted away from his and onto a picture on her desk, one he couldn't see, but knew who it was of anyway. "You did the best you could for your brothers, Lisbon." He would have liked to thought of himself as the kind of man who would reach out and comfort a person with a hug or a pat on the leg when they were distressed. Unfortunately, he wasn't. But if he was, he knew at that moment that Lisbon would be one of the few people he would physically comfort. He knew her well enough to know that underneath it all she was traumatized by her childhood, her family upheavals. And he knew, like himself, she didn't like to be reminded of it. She wasn't a victim either.

It was then that Lisbon did something Jane didn't expect, and that was hard to do. She turned to him, eyes glossy from untapped tears and said, "You did all you could do for your family too."

Her statement made him shift uncomfortably in his chair, and made him hug himself a little more tightly. "Somehow, I'm sure they disagree." He smiled at her uneasy, letting her know it was time to change the subject. He was very uncomfortable talking about his wife and child to anyone. Nothing personal, but he didn't think it was any of their business.

"I wish you did that more." Lisbon said before she knew it had came out of her mouth. She didn't know why it had slipped out, but she knew that when Jane smiled, the world seemed like a happier place, even if she knew it was a fake smile from a man who was gifted at being a fraud.

"What? Smile?" He had to laugh. "You like my smile, do ya?" This was something he could do. Banter with Lisbon. It was easy, and unbeknownst to her, he wasn't having to pretend.... not with her.... never with her.

She placed her hand on her heart in a pose that mocked those real lovey dovey soaps, "I couldn't bear to live without it. Your smile brightens my day."

"Oh your funny. Ha. Ha." But her over dramatic turn did in fact cause a real laugh to escape his lips.

She laughed herself and leaned back in her chair. "Only to you. So what has you so down anyway?"

"Besides the obvious?"

"Besides the obvious."

He shrugged, then leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. He might feel comfortable with Lisbon, but there was no way in hell he was going to tell her that he was depressed because today was the first day in six years that he had been called a victim. All day, he had kept telling himself that he wasn't. No, no need for her to know that. "I just don't like Sam Bosco."

"You had half of Sacramento." Lisbon stated, rolling her eyes, closing the folder in front of her and placing it into one of her desk drawers. "Did he say something to hurt you?"

"Why, you gonna go slap the big bully, _Mom_?"

"No, but I know Sam and I know that he has all the tact of a chimp. He has a big mouth and half of the time he just says things to irritate or hurt you."

"You two have a history." He didn't know why it hadn't hit him before now.

"Yes, and no you don't need to know it."

"Unrequited love. Oh so sweet."

"You can just stop right there." she warned. Sam Bosco was as off limits to her as his wife and daughter was to him.

Jane's hands flew up in front of him, non-verbally telling her to chill. "Cool it, woman. Just an observation." As he spoke, Lisbon had stood and retrieved the new dark burgundy red jacket of the back of her chair and begun putting it on. "Going somewhere?"

"Yeap."

His brow furrowed with curiosity. "Gotta a date?"

"Yes." She beamed broadly, getting her small purse from the bottom of her desk drawer. She wasn't one that liked purses and this one was perfect. Small enough to not be a nuisance and big enough to carry her essentials. Jane didn't need to know that it was a date with her couch, her TV and her bottle of wine. He wasn't the only one who could lie. And he thought he knew her so well.

"With who?"

"My my my. _Tsk. Tsk. Tsk._" She teased. "Why Mr. Jane. If I didn't know better, I'd say you cared."

"Only for your safety." he replied back, and had to laugh at himself. Who was the pretender now?


End file.
